


Stand Revealed

by veronamay



Series: Stripper!Jared 'Verse [4]
Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Angst, M/M, Prostitution, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-14
Updated: 2007-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:10:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronamay/pseuds/veronamay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen stays at Jared's apartment, and finds out something Jared didn't want him to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stand Revealed

**Author's Note:**

> This 'verse is unfinished. This fic does not have a happy ending. If you choose to read on, please be aware that there will never be a resolution.

Jensen shifted his weight from one foot to the other as Jared unlocked his front door. It was odd to feel nervous now; they'd already gone past that point, surely. Yet he couldn't stop the fluttering in his stomach when Jared ushered him through the open door.

"It's not Graceland, but it's mine," he said as Jensen stepped inside. "At least until the lease runs out."

Jensen didn't know what he'd expected, but this wasn't it. Jared's apartment was small; the kitchen was right next to the door, separated from the living room by a L-shaped counter. In the opposite corner was a desk hosting a laptop, piled with textbooks and a draftsman's easel. The living room was taken up with two brown suede sofas facing each other over a coffee table, with the TV and DVD player set against the wall at their feet. A hallway ran lengthwise behind that wall, leading to, presumably, a bathroom and bedroom, two at most.

Aside from the clutter surrounding the desk, the apartment was neat and well-kept, even more so than Jensen's own.

"Wow," he said, looking around. "This is really ..."

"Lived-in, I know," Jared finished. He shrugged. "Best I could afford at the time. I kinda like it now, even if it is a little small."

"I was going to say 'tidy'," Jensen corrected with a grin. "Unnaturally so, for a college student. Don't they take away your membership card for this kind of thing?"

"Ordinarily, yeah. But I have the whole 'gay man' stereotype working for me, so they let it slide." Jared quirked his mouth at Jensen's chuckle and headed to the kitchen. "Take a seat. You want a beer?"

"Sure." Jensen sank into the comfortable sofa and wondered if he should take his shoes off. "I didn't get to finish my last drink at the club. Some rude fucker interrupted me and dragged me out into the alley."

"Asshole. I hope you kicked his ass."

Jared returned with two beers, waving one under Jensen's nose. He settled down close by on the couch, stretching his legs onto the coffee table with a sigh. "God, I'm tired." He rolled his neck from side to side, eyes closed. "Week feels like it'll never end."

Jensen gripped his beer and fought to keep his hands to himself. Jared did look tired; away from the stage lighting he was shadow-eyed and drawn, though not as tense as he'd been before their interlude in the alley, when he'd been talking to that guy in the club. Jensen gave in to temptation and ran a finger over Jared's cheek, cupping the side of his face. Jared hummed and turned into the touch, almost nuzzling.

"You want me to go so you can sleep?" Jensen asked.

Jared smiled, eyes still closed, and shook his head.

"No. I want you to stay and sleep with me."

Jensen grinned, wide and stupid and not caring if Jared saw.

"I can do that."

They sat for a while in silence, drinking beer and shifting against each other, thighs and hips and shoulders. Jensen put his arm along the back of the sofa, fingers tangled in Jared's hair; Jared leaned slowly across until he tipped into Jensen's lap, spilling his beer.

"Whoa!" Jensen shivered as the liquid seeped through his shirt, cold and sticky. Jared sat up, apologies tumbling from his lips.

"Crap, Jensen, sorry, sorry—" He scrambled to his feet. "Let me get a cloth or something, clean that up—"

"Dude." Jensen grabbed Jared's wrist, keeping him still. "It's okay. I've spilled beer on this shirt a hundred times. Just let me rinse it off and it'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" Jared bit his thumbnail, looking at Jensen worriedly. "I could have it dry cleaned if you want."

"It's okay." Jensen stood up and pulled the tan button-down over his head, handing it to Jared with a smile. "As long as we rinse it straight away. Don't want that stain to set."

Jared's fingers gripped the shirt, but he barely seemed to notice; he was focused on Jensen's bare chest, gleaming with dampness from the spilled beer. Jensen thought about teasing him a little – dragging a finger along his belly, licking off the taste – but he saw the weariness in Jared's face, remembered their agreement to take things slow, and stepped back instead.

"So, you said something about getting some sleep?"

"Huh? Oh." Jared started. "Right, right, yeah. Um, just let me—" he waved the shirt and smiled, heading into the hallway out of sight. Jensen stepped out of his shoes and socks, looking curiously at the bookshelves lining the wall between the desk and the front door while he waited.

Shakespeare, Chaucer, Shelley, Eliot, Wilde, Austen, Homer – more classics than Jensen could count, nestled cheek by jowl with mismatched editions of King and Rutherford and a dozen other names he didn't recognise. It was an eclectic mix, right down to the _Sandman_ and _Sin City_ graphic novels at the end of the second shelf. There were books on Gothic architecture and Roman engineering, coffee table books full of photos of high-rises, theories on Egyptian pyramid construction ... Looking at the whole, Jensen couldn't reconcile it with the Jared he knew, the one who stalked across a stage and tossed his head and had rough sex in alleyways with strangers.

"Don't let all that fool you," Jared said from behind him. "Cast-offs from my mother, most of it. She's a teacher."

Jensen turned to see Jared leaning against the hallway entrance, banked-down heat clear in his eyes. Jensen shivered again for a different reason, and stuck his hands in his back pockets to keep them out of trouble.

"Better get you to bed, old man," he joked. "Don't want you keeling over in the living room."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Jared replied. He held out his hand and arched an eyebrow. "Want to come tuck me in?"

"I guess." Jensen went over to him. "But I am not touching your false teeth, you got that? Put them in water your own damn self."

Jared's perfect white teeth flashed in a quick grin. "Duly noted."

He led Jensen down the hall to the bedroom, shucking off his stage costume on the way. Jensen tried not to look – better to not tempt himself – but if Jared half-naked on a stage was electric, having him _completely_ naked and only inches away was enough to make Jensen's heart stop. Even after having him twice already, it was a fist to the gut to see him like this. Desire flared, heavy and low, and Jensen's hands shook as he reached for his belt.

Then Jared covered his mouth in an unselfconscious yawn, and Jensen felt like an ass. The guy was exhausted. Jensen's overeager libido would just have to wait.

He kicked off his jeans but left his boxers on – false security, maybe, but better than nothing. Jared sprawled on the bed with a heartfelt groan, and Jensen gritted his teeth, his cock twitching in demand.

"Be right back," he promised, and all but ran to the bathroom. He was hard by the time he got there, the image of Jared naked and warm and spread across dark green sheets dancing behind his eyes. Thirty seconds later, Jensen was shuddering into his fist and running water in the sink to cover his grunts, biting his lip as he came.

He was still a little shaky when he crawled into bed a minute later, skin sensitive to the lightest touch. Jared rolled into his body and tucked his face into Jensen's neck, arm flung over his chest.

"G'night," Jared mumbled, pressing a kiss under his jaw.

"Sleep well," Jensen said quietly, and pulled him a little closer.

 

* * *

 

Jensen woke to an empty bed and the smell of coffee brewing. He struggled into his jeans and stumbled into the kitchen on autopilot, eyes burning from leaving his contacts in all night. The apartment was silent, Jared clearly not around; but Jensen's now-dry shirt was slung over the back of the sofa and there was a note next to the coffeemaker with a smiley face on it.

> _Gone out for edible breakfast food._ Do not attempt to investigate contents of fridge under any circs. Drink second-best coffee in LA while you wait.
> 
> J
> 
> PS. You're cute when you're asleep.

"Sap," Jensen said aloud, but there was a grin spreading over his face and a warm feeling in his chest, and the coffee was – wow, _really_ good. He filled the biggest mug he could find and wandered into the living room to check out Jared's CDs.

The white stetson caught his eye as he turned. It hung, glowing and pristine, from a hook next to the door where Jared had left it the previous night. Jensen pulled on his shirt and then put the hat on, feeling slightly ridiculous and horny at the same time, and went to the CD rack. He and Jared had some shared taste in music, it seemed; another thing to bind them together.

He was examining Jared's power ballad compilation CD ('Total Eclipse Of The Heart', oh, he was _so_ gonna rag on Jared for that) when the phone rang, breaking the silence with a shrill scream. Jensen checked his watch. Who the hell called at seven-thirty on a Saturday morning?

The machine kicked in after three rings, and Jared's voice invited the caller to leave a message. Jensen frowned as a brash, vaguely familiar voice filled the room.

"Yo, Jay. Listen, man, you gotta give me a definite answer about tonight. I can hook you up with two, three gigs, but you gotta be quick 'cause there are a dozen other guys waiting in line behind you. Remember, we're talking _muchos pesos_ here, buddy. Whatever you wanna do, nothing hardcore, but you gotta let me know by five, okay? Call me."

Jensen sat down right where he was, coffee and CDs forgotten as he stared at the blinking red light on the machine. The warmth in his chest leeched away, replaced by rising suspicion and a sick, cold feeling of shock. That guy – that guy was _Chad_ , the club manager. He was sure of it. The guy who slavered over Jared like he was a side of beef; the same guy who'd pulled Jared aside last night and somehow riled him up. Jensen remembered the look on Jared's face, tense with anger and something else he couldn't identify at the time.

He thought maybe he knew what it was now. Temptation.

Jared came back a few minutes later; Jensen was still on the floor, trying to take it in. He wasn't stupid. Chad's offer had been clear as crystal. What Jensen didn't know was whether Jared would take him up on it.

"Hey." Jared breezed into the apartment, unloading bags of food onto the kitchen counter. "You didn't open the fridge, did you? It's like a bomb went off in there."

"No," Jensen replied, staring at his coffee. The dregs swirled around the bottom of the mug, mimicking the way his stomach churned.

"Good. Because one look in there and you would've run screaming out the door." Jared came over and folded gracefully down beside him, stealing the mug and downing the remains of the coffee. He bumped Jensen's shoulder and grinned when Jensen met his gaze. "Good morning."

Jensen leaned away when Jared moved in for a kiss.

"What's wrong?"

"Morning breath," Jensen muttered, scrambling to his feet. "You, uh, got a message on your machine. Sounded important."

He retreated to the kitchen, feeling Jared's eyes on his back. He refused to turn around, gripping the counter with both hands. His eyes were still burning.

Jared played the message back. It sounded even sleazier the second time. Jensen heard the beep as Jared erased it and swallowed hard.

"Are you gonna do it?" he asked.

"Jensen, look at me."

He shook his head.

"C'mon, man." Jared's hand landed on his shoulder. "What's the problem?"

"What's the _problem_?" Jensen spun around so quickly Jared stepped back, hands raised. "Are you kidding me, Jared?"

"You got something to say, say it." Jared shook his hair out of his eyes, mouth a firm line.

"The problem is," Jensen said sharply, "that for the first time in, I don't know, _forever_ , I meet this guy. And he's hot and smart and nice and seems absolutely fucking _perfect_ , and I don't even care that he works at a strip joint – that's how far gone I am. I go home with this guy and he keeps being perfect, right up until I find out there's some greasy prick trying to pimp him out, and I don't hear you saying no, Jared. That's the fucking problem. Why aren't you saying no?"

He stared at Jared, chest heaving, not even sure where half of that had come from. Just the thought of Chad or anyone else putting their hands on Jared, making him perform, degrading him – it was a knife twisting his insides. And Jared was just standing there looking at him, unreadable, unapproachable. He didn't look like the guy Jensen came home with. He looked like someone Jensen didn't know at all.

"Are you done?" Jared asked calmly.

Jensen nodded, licking his lips. He leaned against the counter to hide how much his knees were shaking.

"Okay." Jared folded his arms over his chest. "I'm only gonna say this once, Jensen. I like you. I like you more than I've liked anyone before, pretty much ever. But what I do when I'm working is none of your goddamn business. I can earn more cash in three nights at the club than I would in a month holding down a shift at Starbucks. And it's a hell of a lot more fun." He smiled without humour, quick and then gone.

"Jared—"

"You can't try to control me, Jensen," Jared said, and Jensen fell silent. "I need you to trust me. If you can't do that—" he pointed a single finger "—there's the door."

Jensen's stomach rolled. He looked at Jared's closed expression, ice-green eyes giving nothing away, and felt the fragile bubble inside him break.

"Guess I'll see you round, then," he managed, voice unsteady.

"Guess so," Jared said. His jaw was clenched tight, a muscle ticking erratically, but he sounded as cool and remote as if Jensen were a stranger.

Jensen fumbled into his shoes and walked to the door, then turned back with his hand on the knob.

"Jared—" he began. "Come on, man. This is bullshit. You can't tell me you're honestly _considering_ —"

"That's not the point here," Jared cut in. "Whether I decide to do it or not has nothing to do with you and me. You don't make that choice for me, Jensen. End of story."

"You're talking about turning tricks, for God's sake!" Jensen shouted. "I'm not gonna just pretend that's okay!"

"You don't have to," Jared snapped. "I meant what I said, Jensen. You can trust me to make my own decisions, or you can leave."

Jensen ran a hand over his face. "Okay. You know what? _Fine_. That's fine." He flung the door open. "For a guy who wanted to take it nice and slow, looks to me like you're pretty fucking keen to whore yourself out to anyone with a bankroll. What's the matter—you been playing hard to get with me? 'Cause I gotta tell you, I've got no hidden depths. What you see is what you get." He looked Jared over from head to foot. "Wish I could say the same for you."

Jared said nothing, just stood there stony-faced, eyes empty of feeling. Jensen nodded, a bitter smile curling his lip.

"Have a nice life, Jared."

He slammed out of the apartment without waiting for Jared's reply. Anger carried him halfway down the street, masking the hurt until he realised he was still wearing the stupid fucking hat. He thought about ditching it in the nearest trash can, maybe setting fire to it for good measure; but when he took it off, he saw Jared's laughing face in his mind, and his hands wouldn't let go.

_He won't do it. He can't. He—_

But the words sounded hollow, even in his mind.

 

* * *

 

He should let it go. He knew that. But when nine-thirty rolled around that night and he was tense and twitching at every sound, Jensen knew he had to find out for sure.

" _Damn it_ ," he snarled, grabbing his wallet and keys and hauling ass out the door.

 

* * *

 

"What do you want?"

"Suck my dick, you pretty bitch. I've been thinking about it for days."

Jensen stood in the doorway to the alley, watching Jared slowly sink to his knees, eyes on the ground. He heard the clink of metal and the rustle of denim, the soft buzz of a zipper sliding open. His heart pounded, heavy and unsettling in his chest.

The john gripped a handful of Jared's his hair and yanked him in, a thick hard cock pushing into his mouth. Jensen watched Jared gag, the way he forced himself not to choke. He watched Jared's hands clench into fists on his thighs, the way he _made_ himself stay still.

"That's it – yeah – suck it," the john moaned, thrusting forward. Harsh pants echoed off the wall, a groan splitting the murky air as Jared closed his eyes and started to suck.

Jensen stayed in the shadows, gripping the door frame. Anger and bitterness roiled in his stomach, threatening to betray his presence. He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, wishing he were dreaming.

"Harder. Come on, pretty. Suck it _harder_ —"

The john twisted his hand in Jared's hair, pulling hard, making tears run from the corners of half-closed green eyes. Jared made a noise in his throat but didn't move, didn't pull away, continued to kneel there and take the abuse this ... this _prick_ was handing out to him.

Jensen took a step forward, unable to watch any more.

"Jared, what the _fuck_?"

Jared jerked away then, falling on his ass on the dirty ground. He met Jensen's gaze, eyes wide, shock clear on his face.

"Jensen." Jared shook his hair out of his eyes, his face in shadow. Jensen swallowed against the sick feeling in his gut. "Wait—"

"Wait your turn, asshole," interrupted the john, standing over Jared like he owned him. "We were just getting started. I paid fifty bucks for this, and I ain't getting stiffed."

He grabbed Jared's hair and pulled him back up to his knees, shoving his cock at Jared's face. Jensen growled and took another step; Jared threw out a hand to stop him, and he felt like he'd just stepped off a cliff.

"Jensen, no," Jared said. "He's – he's right." His voice broke. "Please. Just – give me a minute, all right?"

Jensen stared at him, understanding dawning in a rush. Jared stuttered in a quick breath, hand falling to his side, as Jensen looked away from him and carefully backed up to the door.

"No need for that. I think I get the picture," he said dully. "See you around, Jared."

He caught a final glimpse of Jared when he turned to go inside, the john gripping his chin and forcing his mouth wide, and a refrain of _stupid, stupid, stupid_ tumbled over and over in his brain.

END


End file.
